“She was on the scene the night Dylan died, but her report is missing from the file.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“It probably dropped out at some point, or got stuck to something else and misfiled. Happens all the time.”

“Anyway, I was just wondering what was in the report, if she might remember what she’d written, but no one seems to know where she is.”

“I can ask around, see if anyone knows.”

“Thanks, Brendan.” She smiled and resumed her quick trot to the elevator, calling to the woman who was just about to enter the car, “Hey, could you hold that for me, please…?”

Anne Marie sat on the black leather sofa in the office of the Avon County district attorney and read through the letter she’d been handed almost immediately upon entering the room.

“This is what we’re dealing with, Dr. McCall,” the District Attorney, Art Sheridan, told her. “We think this is, in fact, from the killer, but we want your opinion. On the author of the letter as well as on the contents.”

Annie took her time reading, then read it through a second time.

“I agree this is from your killer. There’s so much going on here…” she told the men who had gathered in the office and appeared to be waiting for some revelation from her. “But this isn’t like a psychic reading. I need a little time to think this through. But I can tell you up front, I do believe it to be genuine. He fancies himself as very intelligent, very much in control of this situation; he’s very cocky about having you all on the ropes, and is quite proud of that. Yet, at the same time, he’s telling you a great deal about himself.”

“Such as…?” Sheridan asked hopefully.

“This is not a very young man. I’m thinking he’s in his late twenties, perhaps his early thirties. He’s not well educated, but he believes he’s quite smart and is annoyed that everyone doesn’t recognize his brilliance. He’s in a low-level job-I think he has been for years, which is why I think he’s in his thirties-a job that makes him subservient, and he hates that feeling. He knows he’s better than everyone else, so he’s smug, even as he’s humiliated by the menial tasks his job requires of him.” She looked up at Sheridan. “I wrote a preliminary profile for Detective Crosby. This was all in that memo.”

“Anyone have that memo?” Sheridan looked around the room.

“I have it.” Malone passed it to Sheridan, who glanced at it, then asked, “How come I didn’t get this?”

“I, ah, sent you a copy,” Malone told him. “It might still be in your interoffice mail.”

“In any case”-Sheridan gestured to Annie-“continue, Dr. McCall.”

“You’re looking for someone who does menial work for a lot of people who are much better off financially than he is, or who comes into contact with such people on a regular basis. He resents what they have, doesn’t understand why he hasn’t been able to make as much or to have the kind of life that they have. His resentment is deep-seated and has been building inside him for a long time. He thinks he’s as worthy as they-more so, actually-but they don’t recognize this. They probably don’t see him at all. So he’s forcing them to look at him, to stand in awe of him, by taking something precious from them, something they value greatly, to prove to them how much control he has over their lives. He’s stealing their daughters, defiling them, taking their lives. And flaunting what he’s done.” She looked from one man to the other. “He will not stop. He will keep on going for as long as he can.”

“Are you saying this is socially motivated, that this is a class thing…?”

“If you want to use those terms, Chief Malone, but this goes so much deeper than that. Look here, in his letter. He’s incensed that you would think that he would be bothered with these other victims, these nameless girls. He’s infuriated that someone is trying to copy what he’s done, but even angrier that this copycat killer has targeted girls that he feels are so beneath him. It’s bad enough that someone is copying his style, but to have the deaths of these girls who he feels are inferior and therefore so unworthy of his attention-well, he’s just not going to take that. Uh-uh. He wants you to make sure the public knows his standards are much higher than this copycat. And he wants this copycat caught.”

She held up the letter.

“See here, what he’s telling you. ‘Why would I want to kill a bunch of nameless nobodies? How could you be so stupid to think those other girls would interest me?’ ”

“He’s going after girls whose families are well-known,” Malone murmured.

“We already knew that,” Sheridan reminded him brusquely.

“But now we know why. That’s his game. If I understand Dr. McCall correctly, this is his way of shoving it to people he feels look down on him.”

“Not only in the sense of retaliation, but in showing them that ultimately, he can control them, not the other way around, that he can impact their lives in ways they’d never have imagined,” Annie told them. “Look for someone who’s worked a menial job for a long time, ten years or better, in a place where he’d come into daily contact with the victims’ families. A country club, golf course, restaurant, a pool company, landscaping company… some business that would attract the well-to-do or the influential from the community.”

“Green Briar Country Club. It’s the only country club in the county. Only golf course, as well,” Malone offered.

“See if the victims’ families were members,” Sheridan told him.

Malone reached for the telephone, made a call, then hung up. “I’ve got someone on that. We should have a list of members within the hour. I also requested that contact be made this morning with the parents to find out who they used for landscaping, if they have a pool or handyman-all the possibilities Dr. McCall just talked about. We’ll see if we get any matches.”

He turned to Annie.

“Any chance we can pick your brain on this second killer while we have you here? You have any thoughts on him?”

“I think it’s all staging,” Annie said. “He’s tried to make his victims look as much like the others as he could. He’s copying the other killer’s style because he wants to go unnoticed. He wants these girls dead, but isn’t making a statement, the way the first killer is. I’d be willing to bet the shoes he took from his victims were tossed into the trash. Unlike our first killer, who is keeping them in a special place and treating them like treasures. These other killings were more like executions than murders that involved any passion or fulfilled any need or fantasy of the killer.”

“Why would someone want to execute a fourteen-year-old girl?” Malone murmured.

“Because she knows something that the killer doesn’t want anyone else to know, or has seen something he didn’t want anyone to see,” Annie suggested. “Or because she’s in his way. Possibly she’s served a purpose and isn’t needed anymore. She’s disposable, for whatever reason, and so he disposed of her. Having a serial killer in the area preying on young girls was simply a matter of convenience for him. He figured he’d just piggyback onto that, make his kills look the same. And at first glance, they do.”

Malone swore under his breath.

“Yes.” Annie nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Dr. McCall, there are details about the killings that were not released to the public. That still haven’t been released to the public.”

“Like the fact that the girls’ throats were slashed and their shoes were taken?”

“Yes.”

“Well, as I said to Detective Crosby, either someone connected with the investigation is leaking information…” She paused.

“Or someone connected with the investigation is the killer.” Sheridan finished the thought.

He and Malone stared at each other. Finally, Malone broke the silence.